


The Other Half

by last_ship_home



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biting, Bottom Dean, Car Sex, Deep bond, Fluff, Hair Pulling, Impala Sex, M/M, Oral, Teasing, Top Sam, Topping from the Bottom, Wincest - Freeform, deeper plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/last_ship_home/pseuds/last_ship_home
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had always known that Sammy was his better half, that part of himself belonged to his baby boy. It was only fate that Sam would end up watching over that part of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Half

Dean threw the filthy rag into the corner of the garage and reached into the bag above his tool box to grab a fresh red square of fabric. Looking at the car again as he tried to get a week’s worth of grease off his hands, he contemplated the black beauty. He had tuned the carbs, changed out the clutch--god help him if Cas ever tried driving his stick again--fixed the brakes, changed the head even if it had at least thirty thousand good miles on it. Hell, he had even changed the damn tires and re freak-proofed the trunk.

The hunter looked down at his still filthy hands and the now almost black rag. With a scowl, he slipped it into his back pocket and wiped what he could on his grease stained white t-shirt as he sauntered to his work bench, intent on finding the half-finished beer Sam had given him this morning. To say that he was none too pleased that he had finished yet another project on his car would be an understatement. Leaning on the bench and sipping on the now piss warm beer, he considered baby again, a scowl set deep in his face.

There had to be something, something he missed, something he had yet to fix. He was going on two weeks without even the barest hint of a job and good god was he fucking bored. Cas was off being all feather brained and talking to angels about the newest heaven apocalypse or whatever and Sam was holed in the house with more books from the Men of Letters Library and was very adamant that silence in the house meant 'I'm going to stab you in the face if you even think about opening the fridge again Dean.' Which meant for him, no fixing up the house, no shooting the god damn birds that kept waking him up at balls ass too god damned early, and absolutely no sex.

Something about how keeping his mind on the task at hand and not getting sucked into his 'sex escapades' or some shit like that had been cock blocking him all week. Dean rubbed at the back of his neck as he tried to push back the steadily growing ache in his chest. That boy had better be done with this project soon damnit, he hated pushing it like this.  
Dean mouthed at the beer again and tried not let it bother him. Sam would come around, and until then, he needed to find something else to keep his hands occupied. _Son of a bit-_

Dean spun as he heard the door to the garage slam open. Before he had time to even put his beer down-off less than a month and already he was getting slow- he was being pushed into the hard edge of the bench with a hot mouthful of Sam's desperate and harsh tongue. Shuffling his weight backward onto the work table and shoving tools and he went, Dean wrapped the hand still holding the beer around Sam's neck and hauled him into the v of his legs.

"God damn baby boy, it’s about time you got sick of all those books." Dean said with just a little bit of relief as he broke away from Sam’s mouth and laughed at the half growl and jumble of words he got back. He swore there was a Garth in there somewhere and god he really did not want to know. He couldn’t help the look of soft adoration that filled his eyes as he looked at the top of Sam's head and mapped out the way his brothers hair fell down the middle. Even at this angle, with him almost sitting on the work bench, he could barely see over the top of the giants head.

Dean let out a gravely moan into the top of Sam's ear as his teeth laid claim to his neck. Dean made sure he gave just as good as he got, using the tip of his tongue to trace the shell of Sam’s ear and his free hand to get a nice grip in all that damn hair and gave a good tug.

Making sure that Sam couldn’t see the smug look of victory and just a little bit of something else that had always made the boy weak in the knees, he turned his attention to ways he could torture the hot mess in his arms.

The boy had been making him gag for it all damn week. He was getting some revenge. With all the other stress in his life, he could not lose his only sure-fire relief sessions.

Deciding he was going to make sure Sammy was positively _wrecked_ before he put out, Dean squeezed his legs together, trapping Sam in their iron hold. Now that he had him, there was no way the boy was going anywhere till they ended up horizontal and utterly fucked out.

Using the arm anchored around Sam’s neck for leverage and support, Dean moved his hips in a slow role, arching into all of the hard dips and bends of Sam’s chest as he slipped the beer into his other hand and haphazardly put it on the trashed pile of tools behind him. It would be miracle if it didn’t spill, not that he really cared as Sam's hips decided to join the party. And hello hip bones, damn those were some nice cords of muscle. He was really going to have to leave a mark on the lower edge of that ridge. He wanted it right where the waist band of Sam's boxer briefs sat so even when his little nerd was sitting as his desk reading all damn night instead of fucking him, he would remember who he belonged to, who was waiting for him. And if Dean got lucky he would wear the black pair of briefs that were just a little too small…

Dean was brought out of the black-puma-underwear-clad fantasy when his brother’s hand managed to find its way past the button and fly on his pants and secure itself around his half hard dick. He let out another moan that was not nearly as composed as he would have liked.

“There you go,” he managed to get out, still holding on to some of the control. He was calm, yeah, could hold out for hours like this, with 200 pounds of sweaty hunter flesh grinding into his hips and hot hands pulling in all the perfect ways on his dick and a mouth that seemed to be on both sides of his neck, biting in all the right places.

Yeah.

All day.

“Knew you couldn’t hold out to much longer.” He let out a breathy curse as Sam’s hand clenched at the root of his member and held off any thought of his orgasm. “There is only so Buddhist Zen you can be when on your nights off, you fuck your broth-“ Deans words fell off mid-sentence again and morphed into a yell as Sam's teeth almost broke skin on his neck and his not otherwise occupied hand laid claim to his ass.

_Damn_ , he just _loved_ it when Sammy got all bossy.

Still holding onto his control, he wasn’t a god damn teenager after all, he pulled Sam back by the hair and ran his hot gaze down the column of his sun kissed throat. Their eyes locked and hell if Sam’s eyes didn’t fucking burn with defiance and untapped lust in all the right places. Holding him firm as Sam's hand stilled on his dick, Dean slowly moved his mouth into the breath of space around the taller man’s lips and ghosted damp air across them, never touching or giving into their plump softness.

“Want it, baby boy?” he whispered, grinning like the little shit he was as he rolled his hips into Sam’s fist and rubbed the tip of his cock into his brothers shirt. Sam’s head jerked as he tried to break free and a soft cry passed his lips.

“Want me wrapped around you, screaming your name as you fuck your brand into me Sammy?” he held the fiery gaze, never breaking as he took Sam’s lower lip in his mouth a gave it a quick nip. He looked into the hazel eyes again and decidedly did not get lost in the whirlwind of feelings and colors. He let some of his affection bleed into his gaze and gently lowered his lips to Sam’s and as their mouths met in long intense brushes that grew harder and harder, he let his eyes drift close and let himself get lost in the feeling.

“Dean…“ Sam let out a choked noise between hot presses of their mouths, probably not even realizing that he had let the reverent prayer slip. The intensity and burning of Sam’s soul binding mouth left him achy and hard in way that he had never felt before his baby boy, and knew he would never feel with anyone else, for more than one reason.

Dean broke away and moved his head into the cradle of Sam's neck, catching his breath and feasting on the wonderful smell of home and familiarity. The way the boy kissed, the way he put everything that Dean couldn’t hear into the powerful claim of his lips always left Dean in need of something to press his face into, somewhere to hide as he regained his head and stopped fucking _shaking_. Sam began to slowly stroke his now fully hard member, carefully drawing him back into familiar headspace.

Clenching his eyes and body, he felt the beautiful tension start to build again and though it was nowhere near a full orgasm, the delicious tendrils of mind robbing tightness started their aching spiral at the base of his spine and slowly began their weave through the rest of his body. If the empty feeling in his lower back was anything to go by, the only way he was getting off tonight was if he had a whole lot of his boys monster cock buried achingly deep inside of him.

Using the last of this fleeing higher brain power, he untangled his hand from Sam’s hair and reached for the middle drawer of his tool box. Coming up with a tube of clear liquid after a few failed tries, he pulled the warm hand that was running beautiful scratches down his back and gave Sam the bottle.

He took it without breaking his rhythm on Dean’s dick, and hell, wasn’t that just talented.

Dean grunted as the hand finally slowed is tugs and pulls and both of his boy’s mammoth paws lifted him by the ass with an ease that should have surprised him and carried him in the general direction of the impala.

“Going all caveman on me are we?” Dean half whispered, probing into Sam’s eyes, showing him all of the emotion he couldn’t express, voice still mirroring a little of the shakes his body still had. All the care and wonder and need and want and…

Sam lost it again and slammed Dean up against one of the supports of the garage and utterly ravaged his mouth with his sinfully good tongue. This was nothing like the last kiss, all hot passion and wicked desire that had them both rutting into each other’s hips like wild animals.

Pulling back after he was all but assaulted with Sammy’s teasing kissing motions that were all too damn close to what he wanted the gorgeous cock that was pressed into his thigh to be doing to his ass, Dean finally broke his leg hold and shoved Sam back, this time seeing the mirror of his own smug expression on Sam’s face.

With a huff of indignant flair and a harsh look in Sam’s direction, Dean pulled at the back of his dirty shirt and ripped it over his head, letting it land next to the pile of rags. Sam's expression faltered as Dean stalked closer to him, chest flexed and stained with little marks of oil, dick hanging hard and full out of his pants and his expression sinfully dark. He licked his full lips like it was promise and soon had Sam backed against the front passenger door of the impala. He hovered dangerously close again and unbuttoned the painfully tight clasp on the front of Sam's pants.

Sam let out a groan of relief as the pressure was lessened. Dean smiled as Sam tried to keep his composure by death gripping his very bare hip and clinging to him like it was the only thing keeping him from orgasming on the spot. Dean trailed a hot path with his eyes down the plane of Sam's shirt and smirked at the small stain marring the otherwise clean blue of the fabric. His fingers traced the outline of his pre cum and slowly flattened out, dipping dangerously close to where Sam most wanted to be touched.

Dean left trails of grease on the shirt and slipped is hands under the fabric to rub spots of it into his skin.

“You’re gonna be filthy by the time I’m done with you pretty boy…” He whispered in his ear.

With an evil smirk, Dean pushed off of him and opened the back seat of his car, making sure to give Sam a good view of couple inches of his backside peaking over his slowly falling jeans. He turned just as Sam manhandled his pants the rest of the way off and let himself lean back into the cradle of the door frame. Using the car as support, he toed off his shoes and let the harsh heat of august be the only thing that clothed him. Giving Sam a hot throb of tongue for a kiss, Dean slipped down to sit on the warm expanse of black leather.

Pulling Sam closer, he let out a moist breath on the straining fabric covering his member. Sam pushed his hips into his face and smirked as Dean began to lift his shirt again and began to nibble enthusiastically at the harsh lines of his hip bones. Sam got with the program and pulled his shirt off the rest of the way. Dean unabashedly stared as vast expanse of skin and sucked kisses next to the grease marks.

“Completely-” Dean whispered, jerking Sam’s jeans and underwear past his gigantic member in one harsh movement. “ _Filthy_ ,” He finished and inhaled the length, letting it slide into the back of his throat and wreck his gag reflex.

“Oh my _God_ Dean.” Sam growled in a bottomed out voice as he braced his arm on the impala and rested his head in the cradle of his elbow, giving his head just enough room that he could still make eye contact. Dean felt a warm hand settle in his hair and start to pull on the short hair just shy of hard.

Dean _winked_ as he let loose a trashed rumble in the back of his throat that sent vibrations against the hot length inside of him. He barely had time to swallow the pool of spit in his mouth before he was being pushed back into car with the hot weight of Sam and his demanding mouth pressed over him, claiming and possessive and entirely out of patience.

Dean let himself be manhandled and manipulated into a comfortable position as the power dynamic slowly shifted over to Sam.

Dean settled his hands on the planes of Sam's back and enjoyed the tongue slipping in and out of his mouth in the same rhythm as the hips pulsing into his own. He broke off form the kiss and buried his head into Sam's hair, pressing sporadic kisses along any part of him he could get at as Sam's slippery fingers traced his entrance.

Sam slowed his hips and pulled back just enough to be able to look him in the eyes as he pushed a finger inside him. Intensity danced between them as their noises touched and the proximity of the other became a shared space.

Sam added another finger and pressed is nose into Deans, keeping eye contact not letting him hide into his shoulder.

Dean began to shake.

Sam added a third finger. Their breath came too hard to try and kiss, so they shared the air around them instead, letting one deep gasp flow from one into the other, spiraling them into a deeper space then the physical act of sex could ever accomplish on its own.

Sam twisted his fingers and rubbed at Deans inner walls. “Sammy…” He whispered into the skin of Sam's brow as his body arched in pleasure.  
Sam settled over him and slotted his head into his neck, kissing and nuzzling with his lips and teeth. Dean felt the firm press of Sam's body on his and forced himself to relax as Sam pushed inside, slow, thick, and steady as he moved, pulsing hard as he stopped when their hips finally met.

Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and felt the over whelming sense of closeness invade him. No one knew him like this. No one had ever seen him so open, been so connected that they felt like an extension of his own body. No one but this piece of himself, the part of his soul that his mother had carried in her heart and given birth to a few years after him.  
Sam moved, pulling out and stopping again. “You with me Dean?” He said, breathing through the storm of color thundering in his eyes.

Dean pushed his hips onto Sam’s and felt the glorious slide of Sam's cock on his prostate. “Yeah,” he whispered voice broken and full of emotions he could have never let out in any other time but this. “I’m with you Sammy.” The dark, empty churning in his chest grew, pushing, demanding to be united as a whole again.

Sam's hips surged forward to meet Deans again and started a deep, intense pace. Every thrust, every kiss and bite and claw and arch brought them closer. Dean braced his hand on the door of the impala and rolled his hips into each of Sam’s thrusts, pressing him deeper and into aching parts of his body.

Dean let out broken groans and began to leave vicious marks along Sam’s back, but the taller man refused to move any faster. Instead, he pushed harder, going deeper and deeper till it seemed as if the only thing inside of Dean’s entire body was Sam. His internal instincts reconfigured around the man and he gave himself over. His heartbeat synced with Sam's, his eyes looked up every time Sam's did, like he had no choice but to head to the demand, their hands intertwined on the door and their fingers clenched at the same time, completely one and yet wonderfully separate.

The connection spiraled higher and higher, turning from pleasurable sparks that danced along his nerves to deeply coiled tension that felt like it would burst from the deepest part of him if he did not let it out soon.

“Sammy-“ Dean groaned hitting the point where it was frustrating and painful and he was just too damn full and yet he needed more and more and the ache was getting closer, just shy of being set free and it _hurt_ damnit-

Sam reached his peak with a dark groan and Dean felt the coils finally fly, springing free as the warmth spilled inside of him blanketed his senses in an absolutely terrifyingly wonderful feeling of calm.

Sam pumped into him a few more times, fully emptying himself before slowly coming to a rest.

Dean looked into the warmth and vitality of Sam’s eyes and was reminded that he would not just die if he ever lost this boy, he would entirely cease to exist. Sam leaned down and began to trial soft feather light kisses from his tattoo to his lips.

Dean kissed back just lightly, loving the tender affection that Sam always had after they had finished. The caresses slowed in the same rhythm as their breathing as they came down and back into their own bodies. Sam looked down at Dean and ran a finger through the small pool of liquid on his stomach. Dean let out a small groan as Sam gently pulled himself out of Dean’s warmth. Kissing an apology onto Deans sternum, Sam slid down the expanse of his torso till his face was level with the mess. Without missing a beat, he licked it all into his mouth and swallowed it.

  
Sam looked up, and after Dean remembered that normal people closed their moths after they opened them, watched as the cocky smirk that had a bit too much affection behind it warm his tired face. The taller man moved over Dean again and blanketed himself over his chest, making sure to evenly distribute his weight. Dean shifted, the ache in his chest almost unbearable now that the high of his orgasm wasn’t there to distract him.

There was only one way to get the both of them truly comfortable in the space of the backseat and it hadn’t changed much form the time they were ten to now. Save for the fact that one of the doors now had to be open for their legs to lay comfortably, nothing had in fact changed. Dean had to have his head in the right angle on the door with the sweatshirt they always kept in the backseat for just this purpose supporting his neck with Sam’s right leg between his and the mop of hair connected to his brother snuggled into the space to the left of his head.

  
Dean wrapped his arms around his back and smiled tightly as his boy’s breathing evened out and he slowly drifted off.

He ran his fingers through the strands of thick hair and waited patiently for Sam to fall into a deep sleep. Holding off his own need for rest, Dean waited until he felt the tell-tale shift of full relaxation before he carefully moved his free hand to a small pocket in the back of the driver’s seat.

Opening it up, Dean pulled out a small blade with practiced ease. The ache was turning in his chest, moving, demanding to be eased. He quickly sliced a small cut in his finger and watched as the blood welled on the tip of the appendage. Slipping the small bade back into the pocket before the blood could drip on the upholstery of the car, he moved his hand over Sam’s back and began to trace a complicated but familiar symbol into his back.

Dean felt the tug on his heart-strings and the ache finally eased as his soul was pulled out of his body and into that of Sam’s. For a moment he felt the achy emptiness of pure nothing as the core of his being fused with its other half and then split back into its two again, one flowing back into Dean and the other remaining in Sammy.

The blood mark on his back glowed faintly and then sunk into his skin, as it always did and Dean relaxed into the seat, content that Sam hadn’t gone to long again. Splitting a soul was dangerous for both the donor and the receiver, but he would be damned if he was just going to sit and watch as that empty shell of a monster walked around wearing his brother’s face.

Cas had tried, really he had, to try and fix Sam, but in the end, the soul Sam had been born with had been just to damaged. His on the other hand had been healed by an angel of the lord and then taken apart and spit by the same force. Sam had taken well to the old ritual and almost immediately had shaped the familiar half into a piece that was almost identical to that of what his own would have looked like. As long as he reunited the halved every few weeks, all would be well, and as far as he was concerned, that was a deal he was all about making.

After all, it was his fault he had lost his in the first place.

He told himself that here had always been a piece of his soul that had belonged to Sam; this was just a useful way to give it to him. And if Sam had adopted a few of Dean’s mannerisms and quirks along the way, well, who was he to complain.

Sam shifted in his sleep as Dean felt his soul reform into the thing that kept Sam human. He rubbed the back of his head again and closed his eyes, ready for that nap. His last thoughts of the day were identical to the first he thought of every morning and all revolved around the warmth securely wrapped in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. Well, that is the first fic I have written since... oh, the dark side of highschool? :D I try to write pwp, really i do, but then, well, plot just happens. :) For more ficlets or requests, hit me up on tumblr! i have a lame as lame can be blog, but hey, i post daily and am really starting to get back into the whole writing thing.... terrifying really... Cas help us all. 
> 
> http://www.tumblr.com/blog/last--ship--home


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